


From Black and Red

by TitaniaSarys



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - No Powers, BAMF Melinda May, BAMF Natasha Romanov, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Skye | Daisy Johnson, Natasha Romanov-centric, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Protective Melinda May, Protective Phil Coulson, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22251058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TitaniaSarys/pseuds/TitaniaSarys
Summary: It had started like a typical Saturday morning in the Coulson household. Until the kids found something unexpected under the car.
Relationships: Phil Coulson/Melinda May
Comments: 8
Kudos: 124





	1. The monster under the car

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Lovelies! It's been a while. I'm not sure yet where I'm going with this fic. Since some parts are complicated like how to adopt a minor especially a foreigh minor (more on that later in the story), green card and stuff, I will skip some parts because I just don't know enough about them despite the research I did. Let me know what you think and enjoy!

Skye was particularly excited when it started to snow. She had been living with the Coulsons, even considered Phil and Mel as her parents since day one, for three years now, but that year was special. It was her first snow after being adopted.

“Fitz! Come on Fitz!” she squealed as she jumped up and down in front of the window, her small socked feet bouncing on the chair she had dragged across the living room. It was still mostly dark outside. The sun didn’t manage to peak through the horizon because of the thick fog. Skye had been sad the night before when they had all watched the weather forecast after dinner and the nice man in the suit on TV told them it would be foggy the whole day. But Fitz had reassured her that more often than not, the weather man didn’t get it right. After a quick calculation and mostly listening to his instinct while he watched the evening sky like a bloodhound with his nose in the air (much to Skye’s admiration and Melinda’s eyeroll), Fitz had declared it might be foggy in the morning, but they should have sun and snow in the afternoon.

  
“Fitz!” Skye squealed again right before she was picked up and someone blew on her tummy, making her giggle.

  
“It’s not nice to yell that early in the morning, little lady,” Antoine said as he put his young sister down and grabbed orange juice from the fridge. He frowned when he noticed how little there was left in the bottle and decided to give it all to Skye. He could have milk instead.

  
“I just wanted to wake up Fitz. He said we’d make a snowman. He said…” she frowned, struggling to remember his exact words. “First ting in the mornin.”

  
Trip smiled. “First thing in the morning.” Skye repeated diligently and was rewarded with a gentle pat on the head from Melinda.

  
“What’s got you worked up so early?” she asked her daughter after she kissed her cheek.

  
Trip then shook the orange juice bottle in front of her and Melinda opened the pantry, only to find no orange juice stocked. Phil probably forgot to buy that last week. Silently, she nodded to Trip to thank him and wrote it down on the list lying on the kitchen counter. A sleepy Fitz appeared when he smelt pancakes.

  
“Good morning little monkey!” he said to Skye and fistbumped her. She bit her lips as she focused, put her plastic fork down and did her best to bump her tiny fist with her big brother’s. Fitz had taught her that a couple of weeks prior to include her more. She was barely seven years old and had sometimes a hard time understanding some things. She couldn’t participate in all her brothers’ activities so Fitz had invented that move to allow her to be a part of things even when she couldn’t due to her age. He had made it a morning routine to fistbump her, much to his parents’ delight.

  
Even though he was only ten, Leopold was ahead of his school program. When his parents had discovered he was shy of a genius, they had encouraged him to pursue more difficult fields of knowledge, although he didn’t need telling twice. The boy was naturally curious and gifted and was sometimes ahead of Antoine who was a junior in high school. Trip didn’t mind and was proud of his little brother instead of being jealous. Phil was hoping to be able to teach Fitz soon about the History lessons he was teaching in college, although the boy’s interest revolved more about science, particularly engineering and rocket science. Melinda just smiled at it all and swore to do everything in her power to encourage her kids and help them get where they wanted in life.

  
“Fitz! It’s snowin’! We need to go out and build Mr. Snowman! You promised!” she pouted when the boy sat down to eat breakfast, Melinda already putting a plate full of pancakes in front of him while sipping her green tea.

  
“I know Skye and we will. But first I need to eat and you need too.” Skye looked down at her plate, found Melinda’s gaze and picked up her fork. “Once we’re dressed properly, because it’s really cold outside, we don’t want our fingers to freeze, we’ll go play.”

  
“Yay!” she squealed and resumed eating.  
Melinda smiled as she looked at her family. They had only adopted Skye a year prior, but the girl had been living with them for the past three years. Fitz had been adopted two years before that and Trip had been a true member of the family for the last decade. Melinda sometimes thought about the day they had been approved as foster parents and how she had met every one of her children. She had always wanted to be a mother but never could, until she met Trip, and then Fitz and now Skye.

  
When the kids were finished, Skye sped upstairs and Melinda followed to make sure the girl didn’t put her shirt upside down like the day before. She kissed Phil on the cheek as he climbed down the stairs, barely suppressing a yawn. Melinda only let him sleep in because it was a Saturday and the first one in December. Trip was washing the dishes and Fitz mumbled a quick “Hi dad” before he dashed to his own room.

  
“What’s happening?” Phil asked as he sat down at the dining table, smiling when he noticed Trip was wearing his Darth Vador apron.

  
“Skye and Leo are building a snowman.”

  
“Ah.”

* * *

  
Skye was ready in record time and only forgot one of her socks. Melinda was impressed. “Good job kiddo. Now let’s go downstairs and dress up warmly and you’re good to go.”

  
Skye followed Melinda downstairs and put on her pink boots, her gloves with little owls on them and her coat. Melinda zipped it up and squeezed a fluffy panda wool hat on her head while she adjusted her scarf.

  
“Fitz!” Skye screamed at the bottom of the stairs.

  
“Coming!”

  
Leopold stomped down the stairs, his pullover half-way down his chest and straightened his clothes once he reached the landing.

  
“Hurry!” Skye said, jumping up and down, which made Trip laugh. The teenager snapped a picture, showed it to Phil who was sipping his coffee, and put it in a special folder. He’d have to get those pictures developed and add them to the family album.

  
Once Fitz was ready, they walked into the garage and closed the door behind them after listening to Melinda’s orders not to leave the garden and be careful around ice. Skye walked to the corner of the garage where all their toys were and grabbed the flat stones and branches she had picked up the day before for the decorations of their snowman. Fitz was walking towards the garage door, ready to push it open when Skye froze and whispered his name.

  
“Fitz!” She repeated urgently.

  
Her gaze darted around the room as if she was looking for something.

  
“What is it Skye?” Fitz asked, his hand on the door handle.

  
“There something with us! I hear something breadin!”

  
Fitz frowned before understanding his sister.  
“What’s breathing Skye?”

  
He had no scientific way to prove it much to his chagrin, but Skye seemed to have a sixth sense and feel or hear things before any of them could. She had heard a stray cat in the tree without being able to see it and when no one else could hear it. She seemed to feel that people were home right before they pushed open the door, even when they were trying to be quiet. Mostly she had excellent hearing, borderline supernatural, but Fitz had noticed it was deeper than that. Almost as if she could feel things he couldn’t.

  
So the boy had come to trust his sister when she felt something weird.

  
“Where is it?”

  
Skye pointed at the car and they both knelt to peek underneath it. A black tarp was covering something. That something was steadily moving, up and down, like someone or something breathing. Skye skittered behind Fitz and remained quiet.

  
“Maybe it’s a stray dog. It probably hid in the garage after dad came home last night, entering right after him.”

  
Fitz laid flat on his belly and reached for the corner of the tarp. Slowly he pulled at it, but when the tarp was about to slid off the moving mound, something underneath it grabbed at it and pulled the tarp violently back. Fitz jammed his head against the car and fell back while Skye pulled at his coat “Let’s go back Fitz! I’m scared!”

  
They both ran back inside the house, Fitz slamming the door behind them, much to their parents’ surprise.

  
“What’s happening?” Phil asked for the second time that day while Melinda simply lifted an eyebrow.

  
Both children were pressed against the door as if they were afraid whatever was pursuing them might try to escape.

  
“There’s a monster unner the car!” Melinda sighed at her young one. Unlike other kids her age, Skye had a hard time articulating properly. Everyone was patient at home, gently correcting her and never making a fuss or laughing at her if they couldn’t understand her but Melinda knew their visits to their regular specialist weren’t over. They didn’t know much about Skye’s life before they took her in. The nuns at St Agnes weren’t very cooperative, even when Melinda threatened to shut the whole thing down when she saw the condition Skye was in. Phil thankfully managed to defuse the situation, but they didn’t learn much in the end. All that was in her file was that she had been dumped on the steps of the orphanage as a baby, that she had gone through fifteen different foster homes in her short life and that she seemed to have developed slower in some areas. The nuns called her retarded; Melinda called her a late bloomer. She had been severely underweight when they took her in and even now that she was eating her fill, she remained thin. She was smaller than most but faster and had broken more bones than Leo and Antoine combined. But most of these issues were behind them. Their family doctor said that Skye could catch up to the other kids with a lot of patience and help and that was fine with Melinda. She’d be there every step of the way.

  
“What kind of monster?” Phil asked.

  
Leo shook his head. “Skye’s exaggerating. I think it’s a stray dog. But it’s gripping the tarp really tight dad.”

  
The parents looked at each other and approached their youngest. “Well, let’s see if it’s a monster or a dog,” Phil said as he entered the garage.

  
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Leo stayed next to Melinda, frightened but more curious. Maybe they could keep the dog. That would be lovely. He was already going through potential names in his head while Phil walked towards the car, a flashlight in his hand. Skye kept gripping Melinda’s pajama shorts and holding Trip’s hand. He came down when he heard all the commotion.

  
“Alright, moment of truth.”

  
Phil got down on his knees and reached for the tarp. He tugged gently but like Leo had said, something was keeping it in place. So he yanked. The tarp resisted for a few seconds until Phil said “It’s alright, we’re not gonna hurt you.”

  
When the tarp finally let loose, Phil blinked. He turned the flashlight away with a quick “Sorry” before he looked at his family. Then back under the car, then at his family.

  
“So what is it?” Leo asked and Skye nodded dramatically.

  
Phil didn’t answer them and simply lay on his belly next to the car while extending his hand. “It’s okay. We won’t hurt you. Why don’t you come out? It’s got to be uncomfortable under there.”

  
When he reached further, something moved under the car and hit one of the tires. Phil backed away immediately. “Sorry, sorry. I’m sorry if I scared you. No sudden movements I promise.” He tried again slower, but something backed again. They heard rustling of fabric and fast breathing.

  
Human breathing.

  
“Mel, I think you should handle this one.”

  
Frowning, Melinda told her children to stay back and lowered herself next to Phil. Under their car, rolled in a ball, was a girl. She seemed to be a teenager, but they couldn’t really tell just by looking at her face because of all the grim covering it. She seemed rather small to Melinda, but she couldn’t be certain until she saw her stand up. Her eyes were wild and frightened and she was shivering. She was wearing nothing else than an old ratty hoodie hiding her hair and a pair of jeans with holes all over the knees and ankles. The soles of her shoes were coming off. They weren’t made for the winter, especially not the snow. She didn’t seem to be wearing socks. Her eyes, despite watching carefully their movements, dropped every few seconds. Melinda’s heart broke. She whispered to Phil to leave her alone with the girl and to close the door. She also instructed him to leave at the foot of the door inside the house a bunch of items. She also asked him to have phone numbers ready if they needed to call the local orphanages, the hospital or even the police. And above all, to keep the children away. She couldn’t be bothered if she was really doing this.

  
The girl’s eyes followed Phil as he left but still she didn’t move. Her arms were hugging her sides and she kept trembling. The girl smelled bad, but another smell worried Melinda: ever since she got close, she couldn’t shake the smell of blood. But from her position she couldn’t tell where the girl was hurt.

  
Once they were alone, Melinda took a few calm breaths and made sure her hands were always visible to the girl. “Do you understand English?” she asked. The girl nodded after a few seconds. Her eyes didn’t leave Melinda’s face. “Alright. I’m going to turn off the flashlight and then I’ll step back. I’m going to sit near the door, okay? I want to help you. It’ll be just the two of us for now.” Then she smiled slightly. “You don’t have to run. No one will hurt you here. We’re not calling the police.”

  
She then turned the flashlight off, slowly backed away while still showing her hands and walked towards the door, making her footsteps as loud as possible. When she heard a rasp at the door, she opened it enough for Phil to give her a laundry basket filled with all the things she asked. He smiled, gave her the thumbs up and then closed the door, promising to deal with the little monsters while Melinda handled the situation in the garage.

  
“It’s okay, it’s just the two of us. My name is Melinda.” She didn’t ask the girl’s name. “The man you saw is my husband. His name is Phil. We have three children, Skye, Leopold and Antoine. I’m sorry if they scared you, they didn’t mean to.”

  
She started to unload the basket, putting some of the things by her side on the single step, while leaving the rest. She took the first aid kit and one of the small water bottles. She left the blanket, fruit, snacks, fresh plate of pancakes covered in cellophane, second water bottle, a towel, some of her old clothing, wet wipes and a notebook with a pen inside the basket. Then she pushed the basket with a broom until it was a meter away from the side of the car.

  
During the first hour nothing happened at all. Melinda occasionally spoke in a soft voice to let the girl know she was still there but she didn’t move from her sitting position on the step.

  
Slowly a hand came out and then a hood covered head. Some matted hair was peeking out but Melinda couldn’t tell the color under all the dirt. Two bright blue eyes kept watching her from under the car but the girl didn’t come out. She reached for the basket, but retracted her hand shyly when she realized she was too far. Melinda waited a minute then pushed the basket further. The girl slowly snatched it and pulled out every single item, laying them under the car. Melinda couldn’t see what she was doing, but she heard snack wrappers being opened as well as rustling of fabric. After fifteen minutes, when silence fell, Melinda spoke again.

  
“I have a first aid kit with me. I smelled blood on you. I’d like to help you with those wounds or cuts. If you’ll let me.” Another five minutes went by before the girl peeked her head out again, but this time she slowly crawled out from under the car. She sat cross-legged a few feet away from Melinda.

  
She was small like Melinda had guessed, but not by much. She was probably close to the average height for her age. She had wiped her face and Melinda could now see her porcelain white skin. There was a mole on her right cheek, between her nose and her lips. She had some freckles on her face and the bluest eyes. Some of the strands of hair had been pulled out and were darker as if she had tried to clean them to no avail. Her hands were cleaner but Melinda noticed her broken fingernails and the grim underneath them. She could still smell the blood. The girl kept munching on the pancakes, showing rows of surprisingly white teeth and didn’t seem to be fazed by her cracking lips. She had thrown the blanket over her shoulders but didn’t seem to wear any of the clothing from the basket. The water bottle stool next to her foot, half empty.

  
“Natasha,” the girl then said. “My name is Natasha.”

  
“It’s nice to meet you Natasha, I’m Melinda.”  
She finished eating and drinking while Melinda asked her a few questions. What surprised the woman was how polite the girl seemed. She didn’t speak and chew at the same time, didn’t chew with her mouth open like Skye sometimes did. She answered every question with a short precise answer. Her name was Natasha. She was seventeen years old. She wasn’t from around here. She wasn’t going back there no matter what. She didn’t feel comfortable telling why. No, she wasn’t from any orphanage. No, her parents were not around. No, she didn’t want to go to the police, nor the hospital. No, she didn’t have anyone to call.

  
“How did you end up in our garage?” Melinda asked. Almost two hours had already passed.

  
“I was looking for a place to stay away from the cold. But I don’t have money and I’m not exactly nice and clean.” She shrugged as if it was simply a fact and not a jab at herself. “I noticed your husband three days ago. I followed him and yesterday evening I sneaked inside.”

  
“Why him?”

  
Natasha blushed and looked down. Melinda didn’t push her. After a few more minutes, the girl finally answered. “He seemed like the kind of person who wouldn’t chase me away with a baseball bat or call the cops the minute he saw me.”

  
Melinda smiled. She was glad she got the girl to come out and talk. Then she remembered the blood. “Are you hurt somewhere? I could help you clean the cuts or give you the kit if you want to do it yourself.”

  
Natasha avoided her gaze again. “I’m not hurt,” she blurted out. Melinda frowned. The smell of blood was pretty strong though. “I just have my period.” She seemed deeply flustered by that and hugged her knees. The skin through the holes in her jeans was red from the cold. Melinda’s frown eased.

  
“Well, I was going to offer you to take a shower anyway.” She smiled when Natasha’s head perked up. For the first time, there was a spark of hope in her eyes. “Tell you what, let’s make a deal. You stay with us today and this night. We can arrange something, pull out a mattress or free one of the kids’ beds, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. You could sleep in any of the rooms you want. You can take a shower and I can help you with anything as much as you want. Or not at all if you don’t want to. You can have lunch and dinner with us, eat as much as you want. I can give you some of my clothes. We have a lot of different things that you could do, books, DVDs, games. Our youngest wanted to play outside in the snow, you’re free to do that too. I just ask for a couple of things in return.”  
Natasha listened intently.

  
“You respect us and our children. No fighting, no yelling, be nice to each other. The younger one might be a handful, but I’ll keep her off your back if she bothers you. Respect our house rules, which is mostly clean after yourself, ask to use something if it’s not yours, that kind of thing. And tomorrow, whatever you decide to do, let us help you. If you need a ride to the closest train station and a ticket. If you need to call someone. If you’d like to stay longer. Anything.”

  
She took a deep breath.

  
“I know it may look fake, but we’re honest. We really want to help you. We’re not gonna hurt you.” She saw a few tears roll on Natasha’s cheeks, but she didn’t say anything.

  
“Thank you,” Natasha whispered. “Can I use your shower?”

  
Melinda got up slowly and smiled. “Of course.”

  
She picked up the basket as Natasha stood up. She was slightly shorter than her, which wasn’t that surprising for a teenager. She noticed the girl was holding the used wipes and wrappers in her hand. “I can take that.” Natasha fidgeted but didn’t make a move to hand her the trash. Instead she looked at Melinda’s hand as if expecting her to hit her. Melinda’s heart sank when she guessed the things this girl had been through.

  
“No one is going to raise a hand on you in this house. Or yell at you. Or hit you with anything.” That spark of hope was back in Natasha’s eyes. “If you don’t want to be touched, just say so. I understand. My kids might not, but we’ll explain. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

  
Natasha nodded and after a few more seconds of staring at the open hand she gave Melinda the trash. She followed her inside and stayed close to her even when the rest of the family came down. Phil had to shush Skye who was bounding down the steps, yelling that they had a new friend as soon as she saw Natasha. Melinda noticed that Natasha didn’t seem to mind Leo or Skye, she even saw the corner of her lips twitch slightly upwards as they introduced themselves. But she noticed how she seemed to watch Trip’s every move and how she always kept some distance between herself and Phil.

  
Not wanting to think of the reasons why she seemed to be scared of males, especially adults, Melinda led her to the bathroom downstairs which was less personalized and didn’t have Skye’s stickers all over the bathtub. She showed Natasha where everything was, the towels, the soaps, the pads and tampons, the shampoo and conditioner. She then left a small pile of clothing on the dresser and turned to leave the room.

  
“I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

  
Natasha nodded and Melinda closed the door.

  
As soon as she was out, she grabbed Phil by the arm and told him what she had learned.

  
“She doesn’t look seventeen to me Phil.”

  
“Maybe she’s not. Maybe she lied about other things too. Like her not having parents. Maybe she just ran away from home and things went south.”

  
“But then don’t you think she’d want to call them at least?”

  
“Not if she’s pissed at them,” Phil said.

  
“She didn’t seem to be pissed at them, or scared of them. She seemed cold, resigned. As if they were dead, Phil.”

  
“Then what is she running from?”

  
“I don’t know.”

  
“Any last name?”

  
“I didn’t ask.”

  
“Alright. So we’ll do as you said. But I still think we should go to the police at some point during the next day, whether she decides to stay or leave.”

  
“Agreed. Maybe if she tells us her last name we’ll be able to ask around. Maria might be able to dig something out.”

  
“Unless she gives us a fake name.”

  
Melinda nodded.

  
“Yeah.” She sighed. “Anyway. Let’s keep the kids off her back for now. She seems to trust me enough, but I don’t want her to get skittish again and Skye can be overbearing. Leo too with his questions.”

  
“I’ll keep them busy and I’ll tell them to behave. Leo and Antoine will understand if we tell them the truth. Maybe we should just tell Skye that she’s a kid who just needs a place to stay for now.”

  
Melinda agreed, quickly dressed for the day then sat down on the couch and waited for Natasha to be done while she played an animal documentary on low. The sound of running water comforted her. The bathroom window wasn’t big enough for Natasha to squeeze through but she hoped she wouldn’t try anyway.

  
Then she waited.


	2. A little bit of trust

Natasha wanted to punch herself.

She was becoming careless. How could she have allowed this woman to get so close? She shouldn’t have. No one should get close to her. That’s how people got hurt. Marina, then uncle Ivan, even tiny Sasha. She had promised herself she wouldn’t hurt people anymore. Besides, she didn’t know anything about these people. Maybe they just looked nice. Maybe they were calling the police right now.

She turned on the water in the shower then pressed her ear to the door after locking it, listening. Nothing came from the other side. Natasha had good ears, but even she wouldn’t be able to hear a phone call at the other end of the house. She didn’t have much time.

But on the other hand, the woman didn’t seem like she was lying. There was no hesitation in her voice or her body language, she had acted confident, but open, not guarded yet not threatening either. Respectful. As if she understood what Natasha was going through. But how could she? No one could. She was alone in the world.

As she took her dirty clothes off, she decided she would stay the night. It was the strategic option. She could eat something and would have a roof over her head. She hated sleeping in the cold, as ironic as that sounded knowing where she was from. At least tonight she wouldn’t have to worry about food or shelter. Or a tampon for that matter.

She regulated the water’s temperature before she stepped under the spray. Red and brown rivulets cascaded along her legs, swirling in a dirty mix down the drain. She scrubbed herself clean with soap and even dared to use shampoo. She didn’t know when would be the next time she could shower and washing in a freezing river was out of the question. Why did she have to run away in the middle of the winter?

But she knew the answer to that question, just like to all the others, those tiny clues that made the puzzle of her life. She had to get away. The cold was the only thing that had prevented them from going after her. The guards had been lazy, they had overlooked things. They didn’t go out as often to smoke. They never lingered when it snowed. They wouldn’t even leave the dogs outside for too long.

God she hated that place! She was never going back. But she couldn’t stay with these nice people either. Sooner or later, they would realize how much trouble she was and they would send her to an orphanage. She’d either be deported or brought back to the manor. But she wouldn’t let them bring her back alive. She’d rather die than see him again. She was done playing his game.

She sighed and turned the water off. All of her cuts were already healed. She pressed her fingers against the raised skin on her wrists and thighs, the long gash along her stomach, the tiny cuts behind her ears, memories she’d rather forget but couldn’t. She remembered every shard of glass, every blade, every sadistic smile as her face was slammed against his desk, every grunt and every cry, every tear until there wasn’t a single one left, every haunted look the next morning in the mirror, every bruise, every broken bone, every fake smile.

She could do this. She was strong. Stronger than him, stronger than uncle Ivan, stronger than Marina. One glance in the mirror and she repeated those words to herself, like a mantra, silently in her mother tongue, a promise to her own broken soul.

After using a tampon, she hid a handful of them in her pants pockets and dressed in Melinda’s borrowed clothes, neatly waiting on a pile by the door. They smelled nice. Everything in this house was nice, down to the people. The parents seemed understanding and patient, the kids didn’t look like much threat.

She shook her head, catching herself wishing she could stay. She couldn’t afford to stay for too long, they were already looking for her. She had to keep moving. Maybe if she left the country, they wouldn’t be able to find her. But who was she kidding? Of course he would find her. He had the means and the connections. He’d know as soon as she’d place one foot inside an airport. That’s probably what he expected her to do, to try to leave the country. Maybe she could make her way down the coast to Florida, catch a boat to the Bahamas and hide in a hole somewhere like a pirate.

No, she had to keep moving. Maybe after a few years he’d stop looking. Maybe she could go to Alaska. He knew she didn’t like the cold, he wouldn’t expect her to go so far North.

Sighting, she also slipped a soap bar inside her pockets and walked out of the bathroom. Melinda was waiting there, seated on the couch. She smiled as Natasha walked out.

“Everything alright in there?” she asked and a tear broke Natasha’s heart. Why did she have to be so nice? She had to leave during the night, before it became too difficult and before her heart persuaded her brain to stay. She didn’t have the luxury to hope.

“Yes, thank you.”

She then followed Melinda into the kitchen. Everything that happened afterwards was a disaster. Every little action that either Melinda or her husband did only strengthened Natasha’s resolve to leave as soon as everyone was asleep. Why were they being so nice? Why did they offer her food? Why was their house so clean? When the little girl came along and broke one of the glasses, Natasha thought that was it, they would kick her out. But nothing of the sort happened. Melinda explained to the girl –Skye, if Natasha heard her right- why she shouldn’t run in the house while the father cleaned up the mess. Skye nodded, apologized and disappeared into the living room, the sound of a children’s movie playing a few minutes later. None of the other children bothered her, no one asked anything of her.

Why were they infuriatingly calm and patient with her? She wanted to scream. She wanted them to give her a good reason to leave, to hate them like she hated him, because it would be easier, because then she wouldn’t regret leaving and she wouldn’t think about the possibilities.

But even when night came and they had eaten dinner all together, although Natasha didn’t finish her plate –she wasn’t used to such amounts anymore, which Melinda didn’t seem to take personally- they still hadn’t done a single thing to make her want to bolt. Melinda tucked the children in while her husband pulled a mattress in the living room since Natasha insisted she didn’t want to sleep anywhere else and their couch couldn’t turn into a bed.

She waited a few hours until she was certain everyone was asleep. It was two in the morning. She silently got up, folded her blanket and tiptoed to the entrance of the house. She found a backpack in the closest and filled it with the least perishable and ready to eat food she could find, along with a big water bottle. She grabbed more hygiene products and even hid a small knife at the bottom of the backpack. She couldn’t find more than a few dollars in cash and no credit cards, they were probably in the parents’ room and she didn’t want to risk waking them up.

But she found a pair of pearl earrings and nice silver cutlery. If she managed to reach a bigger city, she could sell that in a pawn shop or something. After checking if they were still asleep, she gently pried the living room window open, those two large glass panels that slid to the side noiselessly. As soon as the night wind blew in her face, she retreated and grabbed a wool hat, gloves, a scarf and a pair of boots along with one of Melinda’s coats. She bit her lip once she was about to leave again, her hands on either side of the window-door, hesitant. The Coulsons did so much for her and she repaid them by stealing from them. What would uncle Ivan say?

She shook her head. She didn’t have a choice. She had to leave.

She walked out of the house before guilt took over and closed the window as much as she could from the outside. Her backpack on her shoulders, she trekked through the snow covered garden, around the house and out on the street. They could easily see her through one of the window, especially with the way her red curls were standing out against the white landscape. She cursed as she walked under a lit lamppost and hid her hair under her hat as much as she could. She should have braided it. Or cut it and be done with it. She should definitely do that at some point, since he was looking for her. She also needed to dye her hair somehow. But she had never done it before.

She walked for a few minutes before her fingers started to ache. Despite her hands deeply buried in her pockets and covered with gloves, she was cold. She knew she would lose a finger or two if she didn’t find a way to warm them soon. The more she trekked through the snow, the more she missed the Coulsons’ warmth, their lovely family, their welcome, their house. She walked for a few minutes, trying to convince herself that she had to keep going, that she didn’t have the right to turn back now, before her heart won over her mind and she retraced her steps.

She didn’t expect Melinda to wait for her in the living room, a dark silhouette sitting calmly on the couch. Natasha felt her as soon as she stepped back in the way she came. She froze, one hand still on the window panel. Melinda didn’t move. So Natasha stepped inside fully, closed and locked the window-door and took off her shoes. Then she took the rest of the outside clothing off and laid it to dry on some chairs. She blew hot air on her red fingers.

“Sit,” was all Melinda said after she turned the light on.

Natasha put the backpack on the floor and sat down on the mattress. She didn’t owe Melinda a thing and yet she couldn’t help but feel ashamed.

“Are you okay?”

Natasha frowned. She was expecting accusations, threats to call the police, demands to tell her everything, but not this. Not this motherly concerned tone. Deep down, warmth settled inside Natasha.

She nodded instead of speaking. An audible glad sigh escaped Melinda’s lips.

“Good, I was worried.”

Was she really? But Natasha was a stranger, how could Melinda be worried about her? She barely knew her.

“Why did you come back?”

That question Natasha was expecting, but unfortunately, she didn’t really have an answer. The obvious answer would be the cold. It was snowing so much outside she could barely see in front of her. She wasn’t dressed for that kind of cold and she bitterly realized that if the Coulsons’ hadn’t taken her in, she would have died in their garage that night. She had to come back for survival. But she had also wanted to. And she feared that part of herself that longed for their warmth, their soft smiles, their trust. Because that part of her, that soft, trusting and loving part that was shoved away a little bit more every day, that part would get her killed someday.

When her silence turned into minutes without her realizing, Natasha looked at Melinda who was still there, still patient, body relaxed and unguarded. She didn’t doubt that Melinda would be able to take her down in a matter of seconds. Natasha was too weak in her current state and way smaller. Besides, she knew a fighter when she saw one. She had spent hours watching the guards at the manor, and his own personal coach. Uncle Ivan had taught her a thing or two as well and in Saint Petersburg… She shook her head. Saint Petersburg was behind her, she was never going back.

“Alright, we have to come to an understanding,” Melinda then said and Natasha looked at her, really looked at her. “We can’t have you run away in the middle of the night. It’s dangerous. Like I said before, we want to help you.” She brought her hands together. “If you still want to leave, fine. I can drive you to the train station tomorrow, I can even pay for your ticket. Whatever you have in that backpack, you can keep it.” Natasha lowered her gaze in shame. She didn’t want to steal, but she felt like she had no choice.

“Or you can stay with us. Phil and I have been cleared as a foster family ten years ago. We could foster you until you decide what you want to do.” She got up and grabbed a family album from a shelf and laid it open in front of Natasha. Inside were pictures of a younger Melinda, of a younger Phil, of a very young Skye and Leopold and Antoine.

“We took Antoine in when his parents died in a car accident. They were good friends of ours. His grandmother couldn’t take care of him from the retirement home she was in so we fostered him. He was bright and funny, but got himself into all sorts of trouble, always trying to be the big guy, to show the world he didn’t need anybody. He was very bitter at times.”

“How old was he?”

“He was seven when we took him in, eight when we adopted him. Then a couple of years later, Leopold came into our lives. He was the quietest kid I’ve ever seen, scrawny and little. No foster family ever gave him a chance.”

“Until you.”

Melinda nodded.

“Yes. Now he’s a curious kid, brilliant and generous. Antoine actually became less reckless when we took Leo in. And then there’s Skye. She was getting into a lot of trouble, the foster families kept sending her back to the orphanage. She went through thirteen different families before she came with us. Now she’s the sweetest munchkin you’ll ever meet, although she has a temper.”

Melinda let Natasha look at the photographs, and neither said a thing for a while.

“Okay,” whispered Natasha as she closed the album and handed it back to Melinda. “Let’s try this.”

Melinda looked relieved and for a moment Natasha thought she made the right call. Those people wouldn’t hurt her. She might think otherwise in the morning, but it was enough for her at the moment.

“I promise we won’t hurt you,” Melinda said.

“I’ve heard that one before,” Natasha said, bringing her knees together.

“Hey, I’m not kidding. I know it’s hard to believe, but we’ll do our best.”

There was a lot Natasha wanted to tell Melinda. It’s been so long since she had someone who would just listen. No, she shouldn’t complain, she was better than that. The Red Room made sure she knew her place in the world, in the pecking order. She shouldn’t disturb others with her issues. But it felt different with Melinda. There was a certain warmth emanating from her, motherly vibes that Natasha wanted to soak in and never let go.

Before Melinda left her to return to her own bed, Natasha put all the things from the backpack back to their respective places and apologized. Melinda simply nodded and wished the girl a good night. There was a lot to discuss, a lot of rules to go over, but Melinda thought it could wait until the morning.


End file.
